innocence
by epic ghost writer
Summary: "How can one with such an innocent face. such a pure smile, bear a soul far more corrupt... Far more dark than the deepest depths of hell?" Erik thought to himself. Just then, another voice arose within his mind. "Because, dear Erik, she is..."


Two years. It's been two years since Christine had left Erik; abandoned and alone. He had spent his days down in the underground cellar. Once it was his sanctuary, but now, it is his insufferable, unforgiving cage of torment and solitude.

Although the world above believed the phantom to be gone, they dared not venture down into his lair, for they believed that before he left, the phantom placed a curse upon the cellar.-_"Who ever dared to enter my domain, will never see the light of day again!"_

Since that horrible night, the opera Garnier Has been ran rather poorly. It's productions are slow and income is Just enough to get the opera by, but the managers could not be happier. No longer are they forced to look over their shoulders in the fear of the phantoms watchful eyes. Those eyes, those yellow eyes are now more numb and swollen than ever. Dried tears litter his unmasked face.

Dust now covered the broken furniture and books that once adorned his quaint home. He laid upon the unclean floor, holding the engagement ring that he given, or rather forced Christine to wear. His eyes stared soullessly at it. Why does God forsake me? He thought. Why did he lay this curse upon me since birth? For what is more innocent than a babe? Were my sins of my past life so unforgivable that I must suffer such a hell in this one? He prayed, though he knew he would never get a reply. He had become Accustomed to praying unanswerable Prayers to nonexistent Angels. He wondered if this is what his Christine felt like before she came here, to him, her Angel of music, or as she would call him now, her devil of deception.

He stared at the ring for hours on end as he admired one of the few trinkets of the horrid past that were still intact. One that, even though he wished to be rid of it forever, could not bear to part with. His thoughts were interrupted by a fierce growl omitting from his stomach. It had been at least five days since he last ate and two since he drank anything. With one swift movement, he was on his feet once again. He began to walk into the kitchen, thinking of what could be left that the rats haven't gotten to yet, when he started to hear the faint sound of someone singing. For a split second he thought he heard the voice of his beloved Christine and naïvely hoped that she had come back for him. But then he greatly thought against it, for once he reached the edge of the lake to hear the voice which was carried over, although female, could not compare to that of the angelic voice of his Christine.

"An intruder!" He uttered under clenched teeth. 'How dare someone intrude on my domain! Do they not know they walk on cursed ground!' He quickly dusted off his mask that had been carelessly thrown on the pile of dusty books ages ago. Clearly they came here to mock his ghost! Sadly for them, the phantom was alive and well, and he would live to keep his threat! He grabbed his cloak, and tucked away the ring within his pocket.

Secretly he had always been hoping that someone would be foolish enough to come down here, all the anger and aggression that was buried by all the pain and sorrow that Christine had left him with had now surfaced. A woman or not, they will not see mercy from the phantom. His Punjab lasso tucked beneath his cloak, he hopped into the small boat near the edge.

As he grew closer to the docks and the voice, he noticed something peculiar, something very intriguing about the way the voice carried itself. As he said before, the voice could not compare to the beauty and gracefulness of his Christines, it was different in every way, but somehow it was just as entrancing. It was like the voice embodied innocence itself. There was no other way he could describe it. He was in awe, the voice so playful and free, yet so shy at the same time. All the anger from before slowly washed away as he listened. When he rounded the corner, he heard the girl go into a fit of giggles.

Soon the owner of the voice came into view. Beneath the shadows; he abruptly stopped the boat, just out of view. Now not only did her voice embody innocence, but appearance as well! Her hair was long dark brown, almost black in color, dancing around her in loose curls. Her dress was a light cream. A light blue ribbon was in her hair, around her waist and lased in and out of the hem of her dress. Her face was round like a child's. Her eyes were the the darkest shade of brown he had ever seen. If it wasn't for her height and the corset she was wearing, he would have surely thought her a child.

She danced, sang and giggled to herself as she watch her reflection in the water. Erik was content with just watching her with a new found curiosity. He was once again interrupted from his thoughts and she from her fun when a voice called out through the distance."Madame Drephen! Madame Drephen! Please, we mustn't be down here! Madame Drephen!" A rough male voice rung from deep within the narrow halls of the tunnels. The fact that this "Madame Drephen" was able to find his docks was a miracle. It was pure luck that she was able to find her way down here through the mazes and traps. Did he leave one of the passages open? If he did, he will not make that mistake again. He was about to move forward, toward her when the girl smiled. The smile that graced that girls small pouty lips froze him in his place. It wasn't really the smile itself the bothered him, but the fact the she was _staring_ right at him when she did it. Did she know that he was there? Impossible, he was perfectly hidden within the shadows of the lake. She couldn't have known. He refused to believe it. It wasn't until she curtseyed and walked back into the tunnels, did Erik begin to doubt his sanity; _at least_ _what little he had left. _She _knew_ he was there. Of course, she must have heard the boat coming. But why would she keep singing and dancing? Did she not care that some stranger was watching her? Did she know exactly who she was singing for? Did she know what repercussions that might cause? What they will cause? "Madame Drephen." He paused, drawing out her name as he spoke to himself. "You would do best to pray that the phantom may never find you lurking down here again, for if there were ever to be a next time, you will surely never see the light of day again."


End file.
